So she goes
by troubled-regal-spirit
Summary: Her shoes are worn. The soles lacking some of the much needed tread. She couldn't remember the last time she has felt the burning desire to do what she is about to do. She ties up her hair and finishes off the look with a thin pair of gloves. Tonight, she won't mind the chilled and frozen ears or red and frosted nose. She just goes.


**AN: Hello all! I know it has been awhile but here I am. This little oneshot was actually inspired by my new obsession with running. I don't have a beta so any mistakes are all mine. **

The night it happens, she doesn't even think twice about what she is about to do. Stilettos and dress be damned as she makes a break for it out of the diner. The second she enters the mayoral mansion, her heels are kicked off into the corner. It doesn't phase her as she strips one garment at a time as she rushes upstairs to her room. The first thing to go is the scarlet scarf, shrugged off and tossed less than gracefully on top of her shoes. The next thing to go is the leather. Like the scarf, it was too constricting, keeping her chest from rising and falling to it's fullest.

The dress lands on the stairs as she lets it fall from her body. Not minding the gentle chill that makes it's way down the corridor. By the time she reaches her bedroom, all that's left is lace, both top and bottom meant to be slowly and sensually peeled from her instead of being ripped off in frustration.

Normally, being precarious and goal oriented is her forte but tonight after everything that has happened, after all of the hurt and the forth comings, her actions are sloppy and quick and haphazard.

She finds what she is looking for in the back of her first dresser drawer. Its black and elastic and form fitting. Never has she been so grateful for the tightness and the comfort of a well worn sports bra. She digs through her drawer of bottoms next, pulling out the most snug pair of leggings and can find. She quickly finds her way to her closet, searching aimlessly for her secretly prized Under Armour long sleeve.

Her shoes are worn. The soles lacking some of the much needed tread. She couldn't remember the last time she has felt the burning desire to do what she is about to do. She ties up her hair and finishes off the look with a thin pair of gloves. Tonight, she won't mind the chilled and frozen ears or red and frosted nose.

She just goes.

The second she reaches the french doors leading out to the back of her property, she doesn't stop. Her shoes hit the soft, muddy ground much like the hooves of a horse when trying to break free. Everything was too close. The people of the town were too near. The smell of the forest was too familiar, too heart wrenching.

She couldn't go there. She wouldn't allow herself.

So just ran harder. No music to keep her going. No pacer or pedometer telling her how much further she needed to go until the next mile. She just ran.

Her lungs burned and fought her with every step, with every increase in pace, with every additional mile. But she didn't stop, she pushed forward.

She found herself on back roads. Roads she forgot the town even had.

When she passed Jefferson's dark and lonely place on the hill, she didn't even look back.

When she crossed the Troll Bridge, her heart didn't even skip a beat.

When she got to the town line, she didn't think for a second and she crossed it.

She ran until her heart was too tired to hurt any longer.

* * *

><p>On the second day, she wakes early. It's extremely bitter today and the wind is crisp and shocking. She skips the pants and the long sleeves and subjects to a tight pair of shorts and a tank. The cold bites at her skin and her body protests the lack of heat the moment she steps into the frigid air.<p>

A quick gasp of air, and she is off. This time she makes her way towards the stables and the pastures. Forces her legs up the hills and down into the valleys. The few horses that are out take little notice to her but she goes anyway.

When she comes to the stream at the fair edge of the field, pushes through it. The water and mud coating her already cold legs but is refreshing and she keeps going.

She steers clear of the forest. And the town. And anywhere she might run into someone.

She finds herself at the town line once more.

Her thoughts are dimmed as they always are when she runs. No fluid thought process. One foot in front of the other and that's it.

She pushes herself further than she did the night before. Roughly a mile passed the line this time.

Her body starts to shiver with the bitter cold and part of her tells her to turn around and go home, to sit in the warmth of her home.

But the warmth reminds her of the fireplace. And the fireplace reminds her of Robin. And Robin reminds her of everything that went to Hell in such a short amount of time.

So she continues to run. And when she gets home, she orders new shoes.

* * *

><p>On the third day, she runs by the docks. The wind nearly knocks her small frame over time and time again but she seeks the challenge. When she feels empowered enough by tackling the wind, she runs on the beach.<p>

The sand is rough on her legs, she opted for shorts once more, pants of any kind seem too constricting. Her lungs don't fight her as much on the third day but she can feel the aching and tight muscles of her calves and shins.

She runs as far as she can along the beach and manages to not run into to a single citizen of Storybrooke. When she hits the end of the beach, she turns around and runs it again and when that doesn't fulfill her needs, she runs closer to the edge of the water, the frigid water lapping at her feet and ankles.

She hasn't spoken to anyone. She hasn't seen anyone. She enjoys the peace.

* * *

><p>On the fourth day, she counts her miles. A simple band around her wrist that tells her how far she has gone. But she doesn't look. Doesn't really want to know. When she thinks she can't run anymore, she remembers the years trapped in a loveless marriage with bars on the windows and no place to run. No freedom or space. A prison cell. So she runs an extra mile (or several since she has never been good at tracking her pace).<p>

When she doubts herself, she thinks of Henry, of how far they have come in the last few years. When she needs a boost, she thinks of Emma and how she could be doing evil, terrible things to the woman but she's not. She's running instead. When she loses hope, she thinks of Snow and how she knows that she shouldn't give up.

She refuses to think of _them. _Of Robin or Roland or of Marian.

She won't allow herself to go there. Not when she is running. Not when she has finally found peace within her self.

She won't condemn this feeling. This bliss that she feels when she runs herself into the ground, literally and figuratively.

By the end of the fourth day, when her adrenaline is pumping and she is high off of her own natural endorphins, she recrosses the town line and runs through the center of the town. Its a heavy sprint, not the long distance pace she has been allowing herself to maintain throughout her run.

She doesn't bother to think who sees her.

She just goes.

* * *

><p>On the fifth day, she feels like she is being followed, so when she reaches the nearest attraction she turns around and runs back the opposite direction to catch the culprit. As she rounds the next corner, she nearly collides with Ruby who is out doing the same thing... Running.<p>

She doesn't question her motives. She saw the moon the night before and knows that if the poor wolf doesn't do something, she is bound to go stir crazy. Much liker herself for that matter.

She gives her a nod and she follows the wolf on a path of her own. Ruby leads her towards the woods. When her pace slows and she is about to bolt back towards civilization, Ruby gives her a determined look and encourages her forward.

So she goes.

The path is rough. Edged with stones and deep, thick brush and puddles possibly knee deep, the path winds through the trees and up into the hills.

It's more difficult than what she has ran this far but she basks in the challenge. She won't let the lone wolf out run her even if it's on Ruby's home turf.

She nearly slips several times but Ruby never looks back. She gives her the space she needs to map out the climb. It's up to her to figure out which steps are safe and which ones need to be proceeded with caution.

She's not in control but she's free.

When they reach the top, she's sweating and shivering and she's a mess. But she doesn't care.

Ruby asks if she wants to race to the bottom. So she does. And she can't beat the wolf.

* * *

><p>On the sixth day, she laces up her new shoes and she pulls her hair back tight. It's snowing. Not enough to pull out the boots and parkas but just enough.<p>

She doesn't care. She just goes.

It's light and easy at a comfortable pace. Just enough to get her blood flowing before she meets with Henry for breakfast.

She ventures into Granny's for the first time since that awful night.

She's relaxed and casual and her hair is once again tied back.

When Ruby sees her, there is a nod and a smile sent in her direction. A silent bond to run again that evening.

By mid day, she wishes she pushed herself harder. Went for a longer run, crossed the town line and didn't come back for hours. But instead she kept it light and free, a reminder to not do that again any time soon.

When it's all said and done, he told her he loved her in the presence of his frozen wife and she needed to get out. With promises to Henry that she would be home late but not to worry, she laced up and headed towards the front door.

His face appeared softer when he saw Ruby in similar attire on the other side of the door. So she goes.

They take a similar route but it's more difficult. It pushes her to her limits but she doesn't complain, she just keeps going.

When she returns home to Henry, who is waiting in at the island in the kitchen with a pitcher full of ice water and a plate of apple slices, she is drained both physically and mentally.

She pulls him in for a tight, sweaty hug and he doesn't seem to mind. A soft sigh escapes his lips as he pulls her in closer, almost trying to warm her from the freezing temperatures.

* * *

><p>On the seventh day, she is tore in muscles that haven't been sore in a while. She doesn't try to push herself, not today.<p>

When Henry asks for apple cinnamon french toast, so she makes them.

When he asks to spend the day reading comic books and watching the rain, she does it.

When Snow calls and asks if she is available for tea, she hesitates but she goes.

When the fire is burning in her heart after seeing Robin and his family casually walking down the street, she squares her jaw, says a brief hello and continues on.

When Henry asks if he can go for a run with her, she goes. And it's perfect. They just go.

**Thanks for reading! 3 Liz **


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